


The Olive Grove

by riventhorn



Category: SUTCLIFF Rosemary - Works, The Truce of the Games - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon and Amyntas had always feared that if they met again, it would be on the field of battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Olive Grove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



> A treat for amyfortuna

The yelling and the clashing metal of the battle still rang in Leon’s ears as he loped past the stand of olive trees that shaded the wounded. They had been victorious, driving the Athenians back, but the victory had not been without cost. 

Leon turned away from the trees, not wanting to see or smell the suffering, but a shout halted him. He looked back to see one of the surgeon’s assistants hurrying towards him.

“Your name is Leon, yes?” the boy asked, and he nodded.

“One of the wounded prisoners is asking for you,” the boy panted. “I would not trouble you, but the man needs to rest, and he became so agitated upon seeing you pass by that I thought it best…” He trailed off, clearing his throat and shifting from foot to foot, perhaps fearing that Leon would think him soft for caring about an Athenian.

How could an Athenian know his name, though? Frowning, Leon gestured for the boy to lead him to this man. “I will come see him.” Doubtless the man was mistaken, the stress of the day taking its toll.

And indeed, when the boy showed him the prisoner, who was lying in the sun—the Spartan wounded received the best spots in the shade—his face pale, left thigh wrapped in a blood-stained bandage, Leon felt no spark of recognition.

But then the man spoke, saying, “Leon, I thought it was you. I would recognize your gait anywhere,” and he knew.

“Amyntas. By the Gods, Amyntas!”

Amyntas smiled. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Leon knelt beside him, hand automatically clasping his arm. “Your wound—”

“It is not mortal, unless an infection should set in.” A sad, rueful smile briefly twitched across his lips. “But I fear it means an end to my days as a runner.”

It twisted something within Leon to hear that. Fifteen years since the Games and yet one memory remained clear, spared the blurring of time—Amyntas, running over hard-packed dirt, his long legs stretched out, only the tips of one toe touching the ground. Now the memory would be tainted with the sure knowledge that he would never see its like again.

“Do you have duties to attend to?” Amyntas continued. “Or might you spare a moment to sit and talk with me?”

Leon hesitated and then crossed his legs, folding onto the ground. “I can stay.”

Amyntas’s smile was brighter this time. “I want to know everything that has happened to you after we parted ways.” He laughed. “Well, I suppose that would take too long, wouldn’t it? The most important things, then.”

Leon shrugged. “There is not much to tell. I took over the land my father owned. I give my service to Sparta when required.”

“A wife? Children?”

“A wife. A son. But both died of a fever some years past.”

“I am sorry,” Amyntas said quietly.

Leon nodded, accepting the sympathy but keeping it distant so as not to reopen wounds that had closed.

“For my own part,” Amyntas began when it became clear that Leon was not going to say anything more, “I purchased two merchant ships. They ply the waters further north along the coast, trading mainly furs and timber but occasionally more exotic wares. Sometimes I go along on the voyages, although the captain invariably tries to confine me to my cabin. A ship does not offer much room to stretch one’s legs.”

“I suppose not.”

“I wed—oh, seven years ago—and Aigle and I now have two sons, Demeas and Leontis.”

“Leontis?”

Amyntas’s smile turned shy. “Did you think I would forget you?”

Leon looked at the ground, unsure of how to respond. “I am honored,” he said at last.

“You know, whenever someone asks me about the Games, they expect me to talk about how it felt to win the race. But I think more on the days before, when we trained together. Everything was anticipation then—all so new and exciting. But after the race…” He shrugged. “It was over.”

Leon nodded, having felt the same.

Amyntas reached over and took his hand. “I was afraid to meet you again. I was afraid because I feared it would be in the midst of battle. And I—I do not know what I should have done.”

Leon was not sure what he would have done either. He did not think he had it in him to kill Amyntas.

“I’m glad,” Amyntas continued. “I’m glad that it was this way. Even if…”

He stopped, but Leon knew what he had been about to say. _Even if it means my death._

There were no guarantees—slavery, perhaps a prisoner exchange, death at the worst. Any of those things could happen.

Leon clasped his hand tighter. “I am glad to see you again, too. I only wish that our places had been exchanged.”

“I do not.” Amyntas grimaced against another wave of pain and let his head sink back, eyes closing. “I got to see you run again. I wanted that more than anything.”

Leon sat with him until he fell asleep, keeping away the flies and shading Amyntas’s upper body with the edge of his cloak.

But he returned that night, and under the cover of darkness, he helped Amyntas elude the sentries and walk over the long stretch of empty ground that lay between the two armies. It was not easy. Amyntas could barely walk, and his breath wheezed harshly in his throat as he bit back cries of pain. Leon supported as much of his weight as he could, forcing his muscles to remain steady when they began to cramp. They had both run across the finish line at the Games. They knew how to push their bodies past the point of ordinary endurance.

When the Athenian campfires had drawn near, Leon stopped.

“I cannot go any farther,” he said.

“I can manage it.” With a shaky breath, Amyntas steadied himself on his good leg, and Leon let his arm drop.

They stood there, silently, in the dark, and it was like the end of the Games all over again, when they had gone their separate ways.

At last, Amyntas spoke the same words that he had used then. “The Gods be with you, Leon.”

And Leon, too, said as he had then, “The Gods be with you, Amyntas.”

As he watched Amyntas limping away, slowly disappearing into the night, he thought that surely Amyntas’s wound would prevent him from further military service. Perhaps one day this endless war would be over, and they could seek each other out and clasp each other’s hands in open friendship. 

And so on this night, he gave voice to a different prayer than he had those many years before.

“May the Gods grant that we meet again.”


End file.
